


On the Merit of Saint Cichol

by AdraCat



Series: To Weather the Dark Collection [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower, Dancing, F/F, M/M, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), and a happy new year, happy holidays, lots of cute kisses, winter special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdraCat/pseuds/AdraCat
Summary: A strange Holiday takes hold of Enbarr. The Emperor investigates with some unexpected results.( Side story set within the TWtD continuity )
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: To Weather the Dark Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485548
Comments: 78
Kudos: 316





	1. On the Merit of Saint Cichol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! Here's my gift to all of you. Please enjoy~
> 
> A Notice: If you have not read TWtD and other stories you will most likely be lost. Events in both the main work and TToC will apply. If you decide to read anyway and like what you see, I hope you consider giving the others a chance <3

  
  


On the twenty-seventh day of the Ethereal Moon, something strange arose within the capital city of Enbarr. The day had long since been observed as the day of Saint Cichol. But in the aftermath of the war, worship of Seiros and her followers had fallen into decline. The Goddess was apart from these on-goings, of course. Not even the Emperor claimed dominion of the heavens, and so the belief remained untried. Those of the Saints was another matter. The Imperial citizens let each Saint’s day pass as any other, bland and unremarkable.

Save, for some reason or another, the day of Saint Cichol.

This happenstance did not go without notice, and within the palace, a rumor stirred. Word traveled among servant and former nobility alike until it finally came upon the ear of a certain Prime Minister. And so, as is the nature of his station, this odd rumor finally reached the Emperor’s ear.

“Celebration of Cichol?” Edelgard pursed her lips. Her tongue lingered upon the words, coloring them with marked disdain. She set down her quill. “Explain.”

Across from her, Ferdinand straightened. The man smoothed down his cravat with a nervous smile. Over his shoulder, Hubert could just be seen by the door. Her retainer was strangely silent, appearing content with letting the other man speak. It was uncharacteristic, and the Emperor frowned at both of them. Ferdinand cleared his throat primly.

“Well, it would appear to be a holiday, Your Majesty. One that has spread across the whole of Enbarr. That is, if the cooks are to be believed.”

“I asked you to explain, Lord Aegir, not to merely state the obvious.” Edelgard leaned back in her chair, sighing. “Honestly. I may not support the Saint Days, but I know very well what they are.”

“Of course! I would never imply you didn’t. Yet—” Ferdinand’s smile changed into something far more sheepish. “It seems the Day of Saint Cichol and this supposed ‘celebration’ are rather different.”

“Much as it pains me to admit this, he is correct.” Hubert cut in suddenly. He stepped out from the Prime Minister’s shadow. “The two are unrelated to one another. Other than the commonality of being associated with a Saint, there isn’t anything suggestive of Church doctrine.”

“I don’t understand.” The Emperor took in a deep breath and rubbed her temple. “You’re telling me that the people are worshiping Cichol, yet it has nothing to do with the Church? Do the both of you realize how ludicrous that sounds?”

“I hesitate at calling what they’re doing worship.” Ferdinand rubbed his jaw uneasily. “It’s more… Hmm. How would you put it, Hubert?”

Edelgard looked to the dark-haired man, eyebrow quirking. The lack of formal address piqued her interest. While the two men had seemed to reach an understanding in the wake of the war, neither shied from needling the other. Still, they had managed to maintain a professional, if distant, relationship. Or so she had believed. Hubert, for his part, did not react either way. The man’s lime gaze remained steady.

“I would venture to call it reverent,” he said after a time. “But not with the fanatical devotion typically seen among the faithful. By all accounts, this holiday does not seem to be completely dedicated to Saint Cichol.”

“This isn’t clarifying anything for me.” The Emperor narrowed her eyes, irritation growing. A monstrous headache loomed. It had been a long morning, replete with ambitious up-starts clamoring for favor and the Ministry dogging her every step. Combined with news of civil unrest stirring in the former Kingdom, Edelgard was well on her way to a premature coronary. Now this? She took a steadying breath.

“Despite bringing word of this holiday to my attention, neither of you seem well-informed. I expected better from my Prime Minister and Spymaster.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty.” Hubert bowed low, genuinely contrite. “Normally this matter would be easy to settle. My resources are many, as you know well. However, the situation is more complicated than expected.”

“In what way?”

“The people,” Ferdinand answered simply. “We tried reaching out and gathering information, but no one is willing to give us a clear answer. Even Hubert’s men have been oddly reticent.”

“Much to my ire.” Her retainer exhaled sharply through his nose. “Whether by deliberate ignorance, or an inability to serve their task… it vexes me greatly. Whatever this holiday involves, the ones who birthed its inception do not want such knowledge reaching the Throne’s attention.”

“That’s only a theory, Hubert.” Ferdinand glanced at the other man, scowling.

“One which holds weight. Who knows what _insidious_ plans are afoot under the guise of mummery.”

“Yes, yes, but that does not mean you should worry Her Majesty without need. As far as we know, this could be harmless. Throwing around baseless conjecture gets us nowhere.”

“Gentlemen.” Edelgard cleared her throat sharply, silencing them both. Their bickering was a tired habit she had no patience for at the moment. “Do try and concentrate. I have other matters that need attending to, and would rather not spend my valuable time hearing you argue.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” Hubert threw one last glare in the other man’s direction before turning back to his liege. “While we cannot say for certain the aim or intent, one thing is made clear. This celebration is an unknown; one we must be wary of.”

“I agree, but I say we go about this with care. You do not want to stir trouble over the innocuous. Goddess knows the people would see censure as an act of tyranny.” The Prime Minister folded his arms, confident. Edelgard eyed him for a long moment.

“You make a fine point, Lord Aegir. I thank you for your counsel.”

The man seemed to preen over the praise, chest puffing. He had cast much of his pompous attitude aside after the war and taken heart in his station. That did not mean he had completely shed his enormous sense of pride. Hubert stared at him, his expression a mix of irritated and analytical.

“That’s all well and good, but the people’s opinion should not be a primary concern. If this holiday is merely pretext for stirring unrest...” Her retainer trailed off, gaze shadowed with dark implication. Hubert hardly needed to finish the thought. The Emperor knew her rule was not secure as of yet. While the razing of Fhirdiad had done much to sway the people in favor of the Empire, there were still those reluctant to accept the changes implemented. The nobility who had lost their titles were often vocal in their disapproval, as were those who still wore the vestments of Seiros. Thankfully, they had yet to act in earnest. Her military power was a force few wished to reckon with. The Strike Force, even less than that. But a revolution was not completely out of the question.

“Perhaps I should bring in a few of these revelers. A direct question from their Emperor would dissuade them from providing excuses.” Edelgard stood, and leaned her hands atop her desk. “Ferdinand, gather the guard and meet me by the palace gate. I will bring the truth of this matter to light.”

“That sounds dire.” An amused voice sounded near the office door. Edelgard blinked, craning her head. Glittering blue eyes met her own. Byleth, clad in dark training garb, loped inside. The woman was covered in a light sheen of sweat, having evidently returned from a vigorous training session. Her hair was damp, slicked away from her face in distracting sweeps of teal. Despite the present company, Edelgard found herself flushing; quick and faint.

“General Eisner.” The Emperor gathered herself, glancing quickly at her lover. “You’ve come at an excellent time. Would you be so kind as to assist the Prime Minister?”

“I am at your disposal, Your Majesty.” Byleth looked to her, seeming contemplative. “But may I know what it is I will be assisting with? Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Not at all, Professor.” Ferdinand cheerfully offered. The man swept back his hair with a flourish. Hubert was far more sedate in comparison. He offered Byleth a slight bow.

“That is a matter of some debate, General. News of the Celebration of Cichol has reached us, and we were debating whether or not this could be a prelude to something _dangerous_.”

“Oh.” Edelgard watched fondly as Byleth tilted her head. The woman often did as such when faced with new information. Her lover was silent for a time, mulling over something unknown. Then her lips curved into a perplexed frown. “You mean that odd little festival by the docks? I don’t see how that would be dangerous.”

“Docks?” The Emperor flinched back in surprise. “Byleth, you know something of this?”

“The army has been talking about it during drills.” The taller woman lifted her shoulders into a light shrug. “They invited me down to see it, but I didn’t want to go without you.”

Byleth paused, looking mildly conflicted.

“I suppose I wasn’t meant to tell you, but I don’t like keeping secrets between us. Doesn’t sit right.”

Edelgard didn’t have a response for that. Across from the desk, the two men were staring at her lover with varying amounts of confusion.

“General, are you saying that you knew of this beforehand?” Hubert asked slowly. Byleth just nodded, airy and unconcerned.

“For about a week now. It sounded harmless enough to me, but they asked me not to tell you.” She turned her head to flash a gentle smile at Edelgard. “Does this mean you’re interested in seeing it? We could go together if you like.”

The Emperor placed a hand to her brow. She exhaled, long and slow.

“Gentlemen, if you would leave me and General Eisner alone for a moment?”

Ferdinand opened his mouth to object. Hubert placed a firm hand on his arm, stopping him from doing so. They shared a look, one Edelgard couldn’t decipher, then both bowed formally.

“By your leave, Your Majesty. We’ll be waiting in the hall. Come, Ferdinand.”

“The gall of you, to order your Prime Minister,” the fairer man grumbled but moved to follow. He sent a speculative glance between the Emperor and her general. Then, with a twirl of his cape, both disappeared out the door. The Emperor relaxed her stance.

“Finally. Byleth, can you please—”

Edelgard's voice was stolen as her lips were seized into a firm kiss. She startled, caught off guard, but Byleth was undaunted. The woman pressed close, cornering the Emperor against her desk. Hands sought beneath the silken fabric, tracing patterns along skin and cloth. Edelgard bit back a yelp as her lover attempted to lick into her mouth. She turned her head, breaking the contact, and sputtered.

“Byleth!”

Cobalt eyes just stared down at her, mirth and want deepening the color.

“Yes, El?”

Edelgard blushed further at the husked tone, heart galloping. That voice was not often heard outside the bedroom, yet here they were. She brought her hand up and pushed the taller woman back a step.

“I didn’t get you alone for… this.” The Emperor tried to compose her flustered expression, yet it was proving rather difficult. Byleth wasn’t often aggressive in her ardor, but their trip to Brigid had loosened the reins so to speak. Edelgard swallowed hard, feeling heat roll off her lover in waves. She tried to hold the woman’s gaze without revealing her scattered concentration. “The Celebration of Cichol. I wanted to speak about what you’ve heard.”

“Ah.” Byleth pulled away, blinking. She smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, El. You don’t often order everyone else away, unless… Well...”

“Be that as it may—” Edelgard coughed before straightening her clothing. She ignored the draft she felt where eager hands had pulled. “This is important, and I need you to focus. You said the army has been talking about it?”

“Yes. Enthusiastically too.” The general looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know the specifics, but it originated somewhere in Faerghus. Apparently, a group of Imperial scholars got wind of the practice and decided to spread word into the Empire.”

“For what purpose?” Edelgard demanded. Byleth rubbed her neck, brows pulling into a deep furrow.

“I’m not sure. It might be something simple as cultural diffusion.” Her voice changed into something more impartial. It was vaguely reminiscent of their academy days, and Edelgard nearly smiled at the nostalgia. “I was told the Celebration revolved around something Saint Cichol had done. I never got a definitive answer, sadly, but there didn’t seem to be anything malicious about it.”

“If that’s true, why did they want you to keep it from me?”

Byleth did not quite pout, but it was close. The woman’s mouth twisted.

“They seemed to be under the assumption you would put a stop to the holiday.” Her eyes became lidded, tinged with sadness. “I tried to tell them you wouldn’t, but I don’t think they believed me.”

“Well...” Edelgard looked away, focusing her eyes on the far wall. She leaned back on her heel; uneasy. “Considering its origin and the nature of who its venerating, I can’t say I wouldn’t.”

“What?” Genuine surprise flit across Byleth’s face. “But El, it’s not hurting anyone. And everyone seemed so excited.”

“Yes, but who can say this is indeed a simple gathering? What if it’s merely a vehicle to spread anti-Imperial sentiment and Church propaganda?” Edelgard leaned up and pressed a hand to her lover’s cheek. “Byleth, you know how tenuous my reign is. I have the military, but the people? They are still divided. I cannot afford to let anything fracture the foundation we have worked so hard to achieve.”

“I can’t deny your logic,” Byleth admitted. The woman slipped into a brief period of silence. Then, quick as lightning, her expression brightened. “How about this? We visit the festival and find the truth in person.”

“Pardon?” The Emperor responded hesitantly. Byleth just smiled; lopsided and warm.

“You want to know if people are spreading dissent, correct? So let’s celebrate among them as normal citizens for a change.” She nodded to herself, anticipation appearing to grow. “We can bring Ferdinand and Hubert too. This way, everyone is satisfied.”

“Byleth, I don’t know if-”

“El.”

Edelgard stilled, both at the pleading tone and the lips pressed to her palm. Eyes bright and vivid like the sea stared back softly; pleading. It was unfair, the Emperor decided, how easily she was swayed by those eyes. Edelgard breathed out, smiling in resignation.

“You said the festivities are by the docks?”

Byleth’s answering grin was broad. She dipped her head, catching Edelgard in another ardent kiss. The smaller woman allowed herself to fall into it, relaxing under the scent of her lover. She reached up and tangled her hand within damp hair. The taste of salt washed over her tongue, and it reminded her of a night spent along the shore; stars above and sand beneath.

Perhaps the rest of Fόdlan could wait. Just for a bit.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Despite the years Edelgard had lived within the capital, the city streets were still an unknown. Her younger years had been spent within the palace walls, huddled behind her mother’s skirts. Father had never mingled with the common folk, and so neither would his family. What little she had seen was usually from within the confines of a carriage. Edelgard had been curious, of course. What child would not ponder the land glimpsed beyond their boundaries? Then, after Thales and all his machinations, there were more important things to think about. Allowing her to run around Enbarr was never his priority, stern task-master that Thales was. Once, her world had been constrained to nothing but him and his plans. But now, she was free and the throne was hers. Which meant so too were these very streets.

The Imperial Palace was nestled within the center of Enbarr. Truthfully, it was an ostentatious monstrosity that she had never particularly cared for. The original building was more modest, built by the first Emperor himself as the tale would have it. It was one of her predecessors — presumably Ionius IV — who decided to rework not only the Palatial grounds but the city itself. The man had declared that the Emperor should be at the center of all things, and so every road was constructed to lead back to the Throne. This display of pride and arrogance led to the network of streets which wrapped around Enbarr like a spider’s web. It had some benefits, of course. One of those being a rather straightforward path to the docks.

Edelgard looked around curiously, analyzing every structure as she walked. Winter had gripped the city in full. Snow lined roofs of every size and quality. Frost spread crooked fingers along glass, covering windows and shutters both. Ice formed rows of jagged teeth everywhere she looked. Coastal and temperate as it was, Enbarr did not often see such things. However, this winter had been unusually fierce, which made the bustling streets seem rather strange. She had not expected so many people to be about, even with Enbarr holding claim as Fόdlan’s largest city.

A fierce chill was in the air, stealing the Emperor’s breath away. They had all dressed conservatively for this jaunt; a necessary contingency per its covert nature. As such, she had done away with her crown and left her hair free. She doubted anyone would recognize her like this, save for any officers higher in the chain of command. Even then, they likely would not mistake the woman bundled up to her ears as royalty. Edelgard attempted to huddle deeper into her coat.

“Are you cold, El?” At her side, Byleth looked down in concern. The woman had forgone an outer covering herself, merely garbed in a sleeved tunic. She had a high tolerance, they found, for any climate. It helped that Byleth typically radiated heat. The Emperor eyed her lover enviously.

“I’m fine, really. Just impatient to get there.” Edelgard discreetly stretched stiff hands and folded them beneath her arms. “You said it was the next street over?”

“That’s right. Near the central market. At least, that’s where most will be gathering.” Byleth hummed, glancing once more to the shivering Emperor. Her arm lifted in a clear invitation. Not one to let an opportunity pass, Edelgard snuggled into her side. She felt immediate relief, warmth seeping back into her bones.

“I heard there’s to be a smaller event to the north. Right outside the Scholastic Society.” Her lover continued to say. “But I thought this would be more to your taste. Plenty of food, people, and merchant stalls.”

“You know an awful lot about this. Were you really not planning to attend?” Edelgard frowned up at her. Byleth lifted her shoulder into a light shrug

“I thought about it, but I knew I wanted to see everything with you.” Affection glittered in her eyes and raised the corner of her mouth. “I’m happy we’re going. Even if you think its a ruse.”

Just behind them, a scoff was heard. Edelgard twisted to send the perpetrator a vicious glare. She did not tolerate slights upon her lover’s person. To her surprise, neither Hubert or Ferdinand were looking at them. The men were staring up at a nearby building, the taller of them sneering in particular.

“The crest of Cichol.” Hubert spat the words like a curse. His nose wrinkled with distaste. “Without the Church standard, but it’s still disgusting to see.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the same.” Ferdinand chimed in. He scratched his jaw as he stared up at the flag. “Actually, they’re a bit dissimilar now that I look at it. And what are those odd plants meant to symbolize?”

“I’ve never seen its like before.” Hubert’s scowl deepened. “White berries paired with a Saint's crest? Mayhap this is a code of some sort.”

“It could just be the traditional emblem for this celebration.”

“Don’t be a fool. Surely there’s a deeper meaning there.”

“Or it’s just a simple flag. Completely meaningless. Only a _real_ fool would see trouble everywhere he looks.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. Were they really incapable of acting properly? Even at the academy, they had never been this combative. Her intervention might be required should they refuse to stop sniping at each other. She heard Byleth chuckle next to her.

“They seem to be getting along well.” The older woman mused. Edelgard clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Quite. And here I thought they had finally resolved their petty issues. Ever since we returned from Brigid they’ve been behaving like a pair of territorial house cats.”

“Is that what you see?” Byleth’s tone shifted, taking a playful cast. She sounded uncharacteristically sly. The Emperor favored her lover with a perplexed look. She tried to press for what she meant but did not get the chance to. A booming voice rang through her ears, piercing the cold air.

“Everyone, gather round! Stop and hear of the Celebration of Cichol!” At the very end of the street, a man shouted atop an apple crate. His arms were filled with paper, all of them rolled and bound with string. A modest crowd had surrounded him, pausing to listen. As Edelgard neared, she took in the man’s measure. At first glance, it seemed he was just a normal citizen. He had an unruly mop of flaxen hair, tied into a messy tail. The clothing he wore was simple, not indicative of wealth, and lacking in the way of Church cloth. The man smiled brightly at the newcomers, bearing a row of stained teeth.

“Hark, as I speak of a deed which happened long ago. One of generosity, kindness, and self-sacrifice!” He swept his arm wide. “The greatest work of Saint Cichol!”

“That’s hardly a grand accomplishment,” Edelgard could not help grumbling. She felt Byleth laugh quietly, chest shaking against her back.

“Peace, El. I’m sure it was something of note. I don’t think people would be so eager to participate otherwise.”

“Then why have we not heard about it until now? All texts on the Saints paint them as mindless sycophants trailing behind Seiros.”

“You speak true, My Lady.” Hubert sniffed. He weaved through the crowd and stopped by her arm. “If Cichol did anything worthy of veneration it would be heavily documented.”

“That might be the case, but the Church tended to censure anything from that era.” Ferdinand placed a hand on his hip, flashing the taller man a superior grin. “Linhardt made that discovery back at Garreg Mach. It’s just like you to forget something so significant. Right, Your Maje—”

Swiftly, Hubert muffled the other man with his hand. The Prime Minister balked, jumping at the abrupt touch. Edelgard shot them both an unimpressed stare.

“Do try and keep your head about you, _Frederick_.” She remarked coolly, emphasizing the name. The Emperor looked around the crowd, noticing more than a few curious eyes turned their way. “You as well, _Henry_. And none of this Lady business. Everyone knows Her Majesty did away with noble titles.”

“The Emperor is a wise woman.” Byleth nodded sagely. She drew Edelgard closer and kissed her temple. Her next words were a mere whisper against ashen hair. “Beautiful too.”

The disguised Emperor fought hard not to react to that. She kept a hard gaze upon the ministers, letting her disapproval be known. They both stole a glance at each other before averting their eyes. Maybe now they would finally behave. Satisfied, Edelgard looked once more to the odd man. The crowd surrounding him had grown, intrigue painted upon each face. The man tossed a pile of scrolls to the air, and many went scurrying to retrieve them. One fell conveniently at her feet. She frowned down at the paper and plucked it off the ground.

“We should be on our way. The sun is beginning to set,” Byleth said, gaze turned to the sky. “I would hate to miss anything.”

“General, can you please at least act like this is a pressing matter?” Hubert groused. The man was still glaring in the distance, lips pursed into a tight line. Byleth paid his rotten mood little heed, merely smiling in the distant way she was known for.

“But I am. Failing to see something that comes once a year would be a shame.”

Edelgard sighed, stowing the little scroll away in her coat. There would be time to peruse its mysteries later. For now, she had a moody retainer and oddly irate Prime Minister to attend to. Byleth… was just being Byleth.

“Let’s take our leave. We can’t interrogate this man with so great an audience. It would be best if we sought answers elsewhere.”

With one last glance to the Celebration crier, the Emperor led her party out of the streets and into the lower district. If Ferdinand and Hubert were unusually silent on the trek, she made no mention of it. The Emperor would rather not chance spurring another argument.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The upper stretch of Enbarr had been rather devoid of the Celebration’s presence. Save for the rare flag or two. By contrast, the docks were a colorful explosion of festivity. White and green ribbons raced up and down buildings and port alike. The market stalls had tripled in quantity and their typical wares were exchanged for foreign oddities. Along the docks itself, people were gathered in droves. Some eating strange, brightly colored sticks; others haggling over trinkets and wrapping them tightly in paper. Edelgard had never seen anything of its like, and certainly not within the Empire. Brigid had come close, but the archipelago had a reason to be so uniquely alien.

This, seemingly, had sprung from nothing. She watched as a woman bought a sprig of some sort of, before weaving it into her hair. Edelgard narrowed her eyes as many more followed to do the same. Perhaps Hubert had not been far off in his assumption. The plants seemed to hold some sort of significance. She was unfamiliar with its species, but that did not mean anything. Her tutelage had never encompassed horticulture, nor had she the desire to learn. It reminded the Emperor too much of her mother.

Pushing away those thoughts, Edelgard turned to ask her lover for an opinion. Perhaps Byleth would be a bit more knowledgeable. However, the woman was nowhere in sight. Alarmed, she canted her head in search for the wayward general. Edelgard finally spotted her at a nearby stall, chatting with the merchant amiably. Exasperated, the Emperor trailed after.

“How much for these?” She heard Byleth ask. The woman was holding up a handful of the strange twigs, staring expectantly at the portly stall owner.

“Twenty apiece, so eighty for the lot,” The merchant supplied happily, running a meaty paw along his goatee. “A price you won’t beat anywhere! I can guarantee that.”

“Twenty gold for a little branch?” Edelgard sidled up to them, glaring. “This must be a joke. I’ve had meals that cost less.”

“The nature of the beast, little miss.” The man seemed unconcerned, lifting his shoulders with glib affect. “Rarity drives price, and it was a hurdle just to get these imported from Itha.”

“Why would you do that in the first place? Are these plants really so important?”

The merchant quieted. He favored her with a long look; considering.

“You don’t know? And here I thought everyone in Enbarr had heard by now.”

“Would you mind filling us in?” Byleth inquired, placing a gentle hand along Edelgard’s forearm. The Emperor lifted a brow but allowed the woman to take over. Impatience often soured her people skills. The merchant appeared to think for a moment. Then he sucked his teeth and scratched the side of his nose.

“Sure, don’t see why not. Mind you, most of the details escape me.” The man twirled one of the twigs, thumb passing across pale berries. “They call it Cichol’s Grace. Might have gone by another name once, but not anymore. Tied to the gifting, it is. The one where Cichol helped that village with those orphans.”

“A village of orphans,” Edelgard repeated slowly. She mulled the information over, incredulous. The merchant snorted and leaned on his stall.

“Not all of them were orphans, ‘course. Just had a bunch of them in the story. Poor and starving village; you know how it goes.”

“Story?” Byleth perked at this. “Do you happen to know it?”

The man shook his head, appearing a bit reluctant.

“Nay, not the full one. Don’t matter much to me either. I’m just here to turn a profit. The working man knows no hardship, after all.”

“How pragmatic of you,” Edelgard remarked dryly. The merchant didn’t seem offended by this. He smiled; close-lipped and just shy of smug.

“Got mouths to feed, little miss. Nothing wrong with that.” His dark eyes shifted to the sprigs in Byleth’s hand. “You buying or…?”

A handful of coin later and both women departed the stand; leaves of Cichol’s Grace weaved behind their ears. Byleth was chuffed, eagerly drinking in the festival sights. Edelgard was less impressed, but she dared not say as much in consideration for her happy love. She didn’t have it in her to dampen the mood. The Emperor stilled as she saw the extra twigs dangling from Byleth’s fingers.

“Where in the world did those two go?” Edelgard exhaled heavily, realizing both of her ministers were now absent. They had likely been distracted by some sort of unrelated nonsense. Hubert had always been focused and diligent, but Ferdinand’s influence was rarely a positive one. Who knew what trouble they would get up to while alone? Byleth didn’t seem worried. She hovered near a food stall, blinking curiously at an array of vibrantly colored candy.

“I’m sure they’re doing fine. Both are more than capable of looking after themselves.” The older woman hastily purchased two multi-hued sticks. She placed one of them in her mouth, emitting a noise that betrayed her satisfaction. “These are rather good, El. Would you like to try one?”

“Byleth, please concentrate. We came here for reconnaissance; an endeavor that has gone miserably awry.” Edelgard crossed her arms, aggrieved. She tried to keep her features stern. Sadly, the effect might have been lost upon the preoccupied woman. Byleth was gnawing contemplatively at the stick, letting it scrape against her teeth. It was decidedly childish but rather compelling at the same time. Cute, even. “...Do really like it that much?”

“I do.” Byleth raised her head and swallowed a piece. She flashed a crooked smile; the curve of canine both playful and challenging. “Here. I bought this one for you.”

Edelgard watched as her lover offered the other stick, pinching it between thumb and index. The Emperor eyed it warily. Hard candy was a confectionery favorite in the Empire, but it typically did not come in such a strange form. Stripes of green raced up and down a white surface, melting into one solid color near the tip. _Perhaps syrup or filling?_

Despite her reservations, Edelgard took the stick and placed one end in her mouth. The taste was sharp. An odd way to describe it, but sweet did not quite fit. Actually, the flavor reminded her of…

“Mint?” Edelgard blurted, surprised. She had never considered that particular herb for candy. Byleth bobbed her head in agreement, locks of teal drifting into her eyes.

“I think you’re right. Clever. Do you think this originated in Faerghus as well?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Edelgard bit off the end and chewed thoughtfully. It was nice, if a tad much to be eating on a chilly day. Inhaling created the oddest sensation upon her tongue “Well, I must admit it's a far sight better than that Brigid taffy we ate. Though you didn’t seem opposed to that either.”

“A picky mercenary is a hungry one.” Byleth recited clearly. She devoured the rest of her treat in three large bites. “My father taught me that. There were many jobs where a village was too far and game sparse. He had a knack for creating edible meals from practically nothing. If we ever camp in the wilderness, I could show you.”

“As fine an offer that is, I pray we never have need of such skills.” The Emperor paused, thinking. “Ingrid might be interested. She’s a surprisingly talented outdoors-man.”

“It’s rare that you compliment another person so readily.” Byleth’s eyed gleamed with something unknown. On any other person, Edelgard might have named that emotion as envy. But her lover was odd in the best of ways, and her thoughts often did not follow the same track as everyone else. “Should I be jealous, El?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The thought never crossed my mind, and assuredly not in hers.” Unlike Byleth, she took her time with the flavored stick. The Emperor did not have a similar excuse for a lack of manners. The gleam in cobalt eyes changed and sharpened, ease traded for unabashed intensity. The woman appeared unnervingly catlike as her mouth slanted upward.

“I can't say I’m convinced. After all, five years is a long time. Can you honestly say attraction never sparked?”

“Wha—” Edelgard flushed, mortified. “Are you mad? Of course not! She’s a friend and nothing more.”

“Friends often ignite into more. Was that not how it was for us?” Byleth leaned away, wistful. “Words are one thing, but I’m afraid proof may be needed.”

“Proof? How...” Edelgard trailed off, realization dawning. She glowered darkly, not amused in the slightest. “This is a trick. And I bet I can name the person who put you up to it.”

Byleth just laughed, expression smoothing into easy mirth.

“You’re too quick for me, El. I’ll have to tell Dorothea her ploy failed.” She stared down at Edelgard, adoration softening her features. “A shame. I really wanted to fool you for once.”

“Why exactly would you need to? And what was all that about?” Edelgard demanded, more than a little baffled.

“Can’t say.” Byleth stepped close and swept back silver locks. The tip of her fingers hovered above pale skin. “But let’s pretend I _am_ a tad envious. Would it not be prudent to assuage my fears? I think a simple kiss shall do.”

Edelgard stared back at her, a confusing mix of charmed and annoyed. But she could never refuse her lover anything. She threaded her hands around Byleth’s neck and pulled the woman into a firm embrace. Their lips slid together, perfect and familiar; a dance they both knew by heart. The winter air was barely felt as they melded together; hands catching quick underneath coat and along nape. When Edelgard pulled back, she felt pleasantly warm. Byleth seemed to be the same, pink dusting evenly across her cheeks.

“Are you convinced?” The Emperor looked away and crossed her arms. A noise of amusement rumbled from her lover’s throat.

“For now, yes. I may need more in the future.”

“...You’re insufferable.” Edelgard sighed, rolling her eyes.

“True,” Byleth admitted. She swooped down, stealing another quick kiss. “But I’m also yours. It’s an immutable fact.”

“Yes, well—” Composure regained, Edelgard turned her back. Their task had been waylaid long enough. Since Byleth was content to traipse around the festival aimlessly, it would be up to the Emperor to set them back on track. She couldn’t afford to be distracted again, especially with their party spliced in two. Edelgard looked around once more, tempted to shout for their lost friends. Surely the men would come if they heard their sovereign calling? Her musings were halted as a faint noise caught her attention. Byleth appeared to hear it too, head tilted to the side.

“Is that music?”

“I believe it is.” Edelgard squinted, able to make out a thick crowd of people in the distance. The unmistakable sight of wild tawny hair revealed the location of a certain Prime Minister. “Why did I bother bringing Ferdinand? I should have just left him at the palace. At least Hubert wouldn’t have wandered off in pursuit of that layabout.”

“That’s just your anger talking. I think you’re secretly fond of him.”

“Fond is a gross exaggeration. I tolerate him at best. If he wasn’t so efficient at his job, I would be far more incensed.” Edelgard murmured. She pinched the bridge of her nose, shoulders slumping. “Let’s just retrieve him. Hopefully, Hubert isn’t too far away either.”

“I’m sure they’re together.” Byleth was firm in her certainty, drawing a long look from the Emperor. Her confidence was strange as it was puzzling. Was there some pertinent information Edelgard was missing? Save for an increase in their vitriol, she hadn’t noticed any significant change. No. She was probably just overthinking it.

“If you insist. Let’s go find out, shall we?”

  
  


_* * *_

  
  


In the end, neither of their predictions came to pass. The Prime Minister had seemingly disappeared once more, and the dark form of her retainer was nowhere in sight. Momentarily defeated, and inordinately miffed, Edelgard forewent her search. She took in the whirling chaos that had opened up before her.

At the eastern edge of the docks, market stalls retreated in favor of an open cabal. The area was free of ice and snow, creating a floor to which many could pass with ease. Dancers weaved up and down the planks; movements haphazard. It was a far cry from the perfumed and proper who consisted of Enbarr’s upper echelon. These were the common people; lacking in pedigree, but bolder in heart. They smiled openly as a folk band, consisting of worn drums and a smattering of flutists, played briskly in the shadows.

Edelgard watched them for a moment, rapt. She had seen something similar in Brigid. A frenetic sort of enthusiasm that spread and consumed like an ocean tide. Originally, the Emperor had assumed the energy felt there was something unique to the archipelago. Yet here it was, displayed without shame in the crown jewel of the Empire. It disarmed her, but quickly realized that it shouldn’t. These were the people she had fought for. Not just those who had bled for her cause, but the many who could not stand with her yet placed their faith nonetheless. Edelgard observed their unguarded interactions. The way they laughed and smiled. The simple trading of hands as they passed along their gifts.

Perhaps the inception of this Celebration was not the portent of revolution the Emperor had thought. If it could bring this much joy… elicit such genuine delight… Who was she to stop it? Suddenly, it felt incredibly foolish to believe all this was created with malice. Edelgard looked to Byleth, doubt growing. If the other woman sensed her unease, she did not let on. Her lover was watching the dancers with interest, eyes reflecting the violet-blue beams of twilight. She was lovely in her genuine appreciation, and the Emperor did not wish to tear her from that. A thought came to her; one that stirred recent memory.

Deigning not to disturb the woman by her side, Edelgard fished out the scroll she had retrieved. She stared at it in silence, as if all the answers in the world lay in her hand. And perhaps, this one time, it did. She pulled the string loose and unfurled the paper with a snap of her wrist. The sheet was heavily creased, edges curling deeply upon each corner, but the words were still legible. In truth, she had not expected much in the way of coherency. Nor eloquence. But the story inked before her illustrated the trouble with assumption.

  
  


_At the dawning of the Empire, long before Fόdlan split into three disparate parts, Saint Cichol walked the land. Honored by Goddess and fellow alike, he enjoyed great privilege as only one of his station could. His was a life of comfort, earned in deed, and enjoyed in full. He had done a great many things, and it was only his right to reap pleasant reward. But as is the nature of man, Cichol became complacent. He dared not look beyond the constraints of his station, and so he fell to prideful ignorance._

_Until one day, he passed through the village of Myra. Unfortunate were the people here, beset with endless winter and lacking in mortal wealth. But they were devout to the gods they kept and prayed for salvation to reach their doors. It is said, the Goddess sent the Saint to spread word of her boundless grace. But there are those who speak in contrast, who say Cichol made the journey by his own direction. The truth is not one to ponder, for it was the result that would echo throughout this age._

_As Cichol walked along the frosted ruins of their village, he was aghast by the squalor he saw. All manner of people wasted to bone, children orphaned by the cold, and animals which preyed upon the weak. Guilt burning in his heart, the Saint was humbled. He went to the village headman, earnest and yearning to help._

_“_ _Pray, good sir, let me right this wrong,” Cichol had entreated. “I have more than enough to keep me warm. Let me assist and provide for thee.”_

_“_ _We of Myra are proud, fair man,” The headman had unfortunately denied. “We do not take more than our share. ‘Tis not your wrong to right.”_

_“_ _I ask for nothing in return. I merely wish to help, is this not an acceptable trade?”_

_“_ _No trade at all, for we have nothing for you. Cast us from your mind, Saint. Go back south and forget this wasteland.”_

_Despite the order, Cichol remained unmoved. Rather than obey, he concocted a brilliant plan. The next day he brought with him a barrel of food and plenty of blankets to share. With the supplies in hand, he made a pile of gifts of similar size. He packaged them carefully so that none would tell what lay inside. Then he strode into the square and bellowed to all who would hear._

_“_ _Noble people of Myra, please listen! I have a request that I need answered. You see there is a plant I keep sacred, one you might know very well. Leaves of deepest green, crowned with pearls of white berry. They are plentiful in these lands, are they not? I beg you, bring me at least a twig and I shall give you a just reward.”_

_Now the villagers were far from fools, and the plant he spoke of was a known poisonous sort. But desperate enough were they, to place their faith in the Saint. So they did as he bid; soon, a mountain of green and white replaced the gifts he had brought. Upon the last box relinquished, Saint Cichol finally took his leave. Accounts differ on what happened next; but it is known that soon after he left, winter lost its grip and spring bloomed upon the land. But had he not intervened, it is accepted the village would not have lasted another night. Twas by one act of kindness that the people yet lived._

_In the village of Myra, they still tell the tale of their savior who had appeared in the harshest winter ever known; and who, upon his leave, brought joy and hope to those who had none. Yet while this deed may be great, ‘tis not the man himself we should keep close._

_So please consider this: Help those weaker than thee, give earnestly without recompense, and most of all appreciate what you have already been given._

  
  


“Oh.”

Edelgard lowered the sheet, mind turning. She had never heard of this story before, but that did not come as a surprise. The Church had not allowed anything from the days of Seiros to be leaked to the public. Though it was possible they were simply unaware. Myra was a rather isolated settlement, hovering dangerously near the border to Sreng. Since she had toppled the Central Church, Imperial soldiers and academics alike wandered north freely. Therefore, it should come as no surprise they learned of this strange festival. It was the nature of humanity, spreading information and traditions that appeared incomprehensible at first. The Celebration of Cichol was no different.

Her initial hostile reaction seemed even more ludicrous in hindsight. Loathe as the Emperor was to admit it, there might have been some merit in keeping this from her. If only to prevent the inevitable backlash. She winced, biting her lip.

“I was wondering when you would read that.”

Caught off guard, Edelgard looked up into soft cornflower. Byleth had turned away from the revelers, watching the younger woman patiently. The Emperor squirmed in place; abruptly self-conscious.

“Did you know…?”

“No.” Byleth ran a distracted hand through her hair. “But I didn’t need to. I had faith it was nothing serious or divisive. Was I right?”

“So it seems,” Edelgard replied softly. She rolled the paper neatly and stowed it once more. “It’s just a harmless holiday. Regrettably tied to a Saint, but the underlying message is… inoffensive. I would venture to call it wise, in a way.”

“So should we consider this ‘rebellion’ crushed?”

The Emperor swatted the Byleth’s arm; chiding. She may love the woman endlessly, but such cheek deserved to be scolded. The other members of the Strike Force were a terrible influence, Dorothea especially. At least the songstress was prevented from meddling too terribly from Brigid.

“Point taken. I concede to acting with undue haste, but I maintain that it was meant in the Empire’s best interest.” Edelgard glanced at the dancing throng of people, feeling a pang of regret. “But neither should they hesitate in celebrating what they like. It wasn’t my intent to censure to the point of resentment, nor alienate myself from their trust.”

“They don’t resent you.” Byleth wavered for a time, rethinking her words. “Most don’t, I should say. Even the soldiers who wanted me to keep quiet didn’t mean to offend.”

“Yet they believed I would silence them. That’s not a comforting reality.” Edelgard fell into a contemplative silence. The story of Myra came to mind, as did the supposed actions of Cichol. “I’ve grown complacent on my throne, and that is a dangerous attitude to have. A ruler must tread among the least fortunate, to fully consider what is best for them.”

“See through the eyes of the beggar, for they notice all.”

Edelgard blinked, brow furrowing. A small grin answered her unspoken question.

“Not my words, nor my father’s. But a wise consideration nonetheless.” Byleth relayed airily. “But there’s one phrase I’ve read that may be far more applicable.”

“And what is that?” The Emperor questioned, humoring her.

“Be keen and be wary, but of yourself rather than the rest. For the person who does not trust will not receive it in return.” Byleth reached out, fingers entwining with Edelgard’s own. Her touch was comforting; warm and encompassing like a favorite scarf. “Give the people time, and I know they will see what I do — a woman who cares so very deeply about the world around her.”

“Is this another lesson, my teacher?” Edelgard smiled shyly, unable to resist from uttering that nostalgic title. No matter the passage of time, that was who her love would always be. The guiding hand she needed in a time of painful uncertainty, and the light which pierced through the endless dark. Byleth’s eyes flashed, and the woman drew her near. Then she swept them both into a graceful sway. Edelgard nearly stumbled in shock but recovered swiftly.

“You could have asked, General Eisner,” she muttered with faux reproach. Byleth wasn’t fooled. The taller woman just rolled her shoulders, lips twitching.

“You already said yes, remember?” She brought the Emperor in for a delicate twirl. “Back at Garreg Mach. You had just come out of a dance with Sylvain, looking for all the world like a princess and he the princely cad.”

“I didn’t realize I was agreeing to all dances in the foreseeable future,” Edelgard mused. She let one of her fingers graze past her lover’s collar. “Though I do find your perspective interesting. If I played the princess in your eyes, and Sylvain the prince, what did that make you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Byleth dipped her head, breath whispering past the Emperor’s ear. “I’m the wolf, Your Majesty. Come to steal you away for myself.”

A pleasant shiver raced up Edelgard’s spine, this one having nothing to do with the unbearable chill. She pressed her heated face into Byleth’s neck.

“Honestly, the embarrassing drivel you spout sometimes.”

Her lover was far from abashed. She hummed thoughtfully, and the sound mingled with the beat of her heart. Edelgard felt both underneath her ear. She let herself relax, tension evaporating like water. The Emperor felt lighter suddenly, the weight of the morning gone in an instant. Byleth was right. Trust was something earned, and both her and the Empire were learning to place their faith. All she could do was listen when needed, and hope they learned to accept the changes she had made. In return, Edelgard would strive to see things as they did; learn from it and make it better, just as Saint Cichol. Loathe she was to admit it, but perhaps there was some good in the Saints. Even if only evidenced by one winter’s tale.

“So the ploy wasn’t for naught,” Byleth remarked, breaking the quiet. “Dorothea will be pleased.”

“What?” Edelgard frowned but did not draw away. The heat of the other woman was far too enjoyable. She felt Byleth smile against her head.

“I sent her a letter, asking for advice. We both know you have a terrible habit of overworking yourself, and I admitted to being concerned. So she told me to distract you until those troubles were long forgotten.”

“Is that what your behavior has been about? I should have known.” A peeved exhale escaped the Emperor. “Well, you succeeded. Are you proud of yourself?”

“Very much so,” Byleth nodded firmly. “I should write to her again. Maybe you can send her a letter as well?”

“It seems I shall never be free of her meddling, but...” Edelgard let her annoyed mask slip, revealing the simple joy beneath. “I do not hate the result.”

The older woman laughed, carefree and bright. Then she quickened their steps, and they floated across the dock in a dizzying waltz. Together they forged a path just for them, paying no mind to the numerous people who had stopped to witness. All the while, Edelgard kept her smile; in love and happy as ever. But time moved ever onward, and the sweetest of moments did not occur in a bubble. As Byleth brought her in for a dip, the mingled colors of black and saffron caught her eye.

Just a handful of steps away, Hubert and Ferdinand were sharing a dance. Her retainer was appearing to lead, though not without a few missteps as his partner tried to take control. Then, in a movement so quick it might have been imagined, they shared a kiss. Edelgard gawked at them, shock stealing her decorum. Byleth followed her line of sight and chuckled.

“I was wondering when they would drop the pretense.” Her lover straightened, and the Emperor was placed back on her feet. She barely noticed, startled even further by the implication.

_"Pretense?"_

“Indeed.” Byleth whirled them away until they were well out of sight of the two. “It happened while we were in Brigid if I had to hazard a guess. Did you not notice?”

“I knew they’ve been acting peculiar. But romance?” Edelgard stared blankly at her lover, thoughts in a whirl. Of all the things to happen, this had never seemed like a possibility. Hubert had always been vocal about his intense dislike, as had Ferdinand. Though now that she knew what to look for, some of their behavior made an odd bit of sense. Stealing away in private, arguing fervently in her presence despite compromising elsewhere, the familiar way they addressed one another…

 _Well then._ Edelgard sniffed, chagrined this realization had not come sooner. Matters of the heart were admittedly not her strength, but to this extent? Perhaps she should work on improving her emotional intelligence.

“This has been a night full of surprises.” She grumbled at length. “Though I would love to know how you, of all people, figured it out.”

“There’s a simple answer to that.”

“Is that so?”

Byleth, obliviously charming as she was, smiled; soft and sweet. Edelgard felt her heart ache. The woman’s expression was a portrait of love someone could never capture in full, but she was willing to try.

“They look at each other, as I look at you.” Their eyes met and held. “And as you appear to me now. That sort of naked affection could never be mistaken.”

With the sound of laughter and merriment to their backs, and the evidence of love all around them, Edelgard could only agree. So she let the matter go, and allowed the infectious mood of the crowd to consume her. Just a distance away, her two friends continued their dance in peace; partners in more than just politics. And even further than that, a songstress lay content in the arms of her Queen. And somewhere, she was sure, the rest of her Eagles were just as happy and fulfilled.

The thought brought a smile to her face. She sank back into Byleth, worries finally laid to rest.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Well, Your Majesty, I must regrettably say our efforts were futile. Had it not been for an easily distracted braggart, I might have more to report.”

“Distracted? I was being thorough, unlike an unreliable boot-licker I know.”

“Yes, your father _was_ terribly unreliable. Which is why he was soundly removed from his position. A fate you might share.”

“I meant you, not him! Besides, the circumstances were irregular. The Von Aegir family is now Her Majesty’s greatest anchor and support. The audacity of you to clai—”

“That’s enough.” Edelgard sighed raggedly. They had been enjoying a nice — if incredibly cold — walk back to the palace. Then the two men suddenly burst into a spat. Now that the reality of their relationship had been revealed, their stale arguments only served to frustrate as well as annoy. The tension she had so easily cast off before returned, much to her ire. “Would you cease this asinine prattle? You’re not fooling anyone.”

“What do you mean?” Ferdinand ventured tentatively. The man plucked nervously at his coat, eyes wide. Hubert trailed into silence, shutting his mouth with a click. He watched his liege carefully. The Emperor tossed her hair and favored them with a cutting stare.

“This act you insist on keeping. You do realize the docks are hardly private.” She enjoyed the stark alarm that covered their features. “Though I must admit, I never expected Hubert to be the one who leads.”

Ferdinand stammered ineffectually, a bust of color staining his cheeks.

“W-We were only surveying the area. And he’s taller than me so it’s only natural! Your Majesty, please, you cannot possibly think…”

“Ferdinand,” Hubert spoke suddenly, glancing at the other man. “I think Her Majesty saw more than just a dance.”

His apparent lover did not respond. Instead, Ferdinand’s blush deepened until his face was one bright shade of puce. The Prime Minister hunched his shoulders as if trying to disappear. Edelgard took pity on the poor man, her severe expression fleeing in favor of something more genuine.

“You didn’t need to hide it from me. I would never begrudge any of my friends the opportunity to find love.

“...Then you don’t disapprove?” Hubert appeared stunned by that, his usual composure breaking.

“Not at all,” Edelgard replied evenly. She stole a look at Byleth. The woman was watching the proceeds with veiled delight, laughter dancing in those beautiful eyes. “It would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? Of course, I expect you both to behave with the dignity your station requires. I will be very displeased if you allow your duties to fall by the wayside.”

“Never, Your Majesty.” Hubert’s posture visibly unwound; relieved. Ferdinand had calmed as well, expression only bearing a hint of timidity. While he did not speak, the man met Edelgard’s eyes with his typical verve. Neither were ashamed, merely conscious of her opinion. It was heartening to see, and a testament to the unexpected bond both men shared.

“Perhaps now we can travel back to the palace in peace. I was tempted to banish the both of you from court until you settled your differences.” The Emperor mentioned casually. They shared a look; Ferdinand’s nervous in nature and Hubert’s darkly amused.

“We would have come clean before it came to that, right Hubert?”

“Hmm, I wonder? Maybe I would have kept the ruse. I rather like watching you squirm.”

“I-Is that so…?”

The men took the lead, becoming consumed with nothing save each other. Edelgard could not fault them. She tended to do the same when it came to her favorite general. Byleth remained with her, hands brushing as they walked. She was grateful for it, though she knew the woman would never leave. Neither far ahead, or lingering at her heel. Byleth’s place had been, and would continue to be, by her side.

Edelgard wanted to say as much, but the sight of a familiar figure stopped her. It was the man they saw before; the crier who was tossing leaflets. His arms were bare, having completed his task, and for the first time, the Emperor noted his thin clothing. The man looked up at their approach, and he tipped a worn cap in greeting.

“Coming from the Celebration, eh?” Bare hands rubbed together, the skin a mottled patchwork of white and pink. Burn scars, Edelgard realized. She brought her gaze up to inspect the man’s face.

“We were, in fact. I must thank you, the scroll you provided was most informative.”

He laughed, a stuttering whistle akin to cracking ice, before it devolved into a wheeze. Then he waved his hand quickly.

“No need! None at all.” The man wiped his mouth along a torn sleeve. “It was an honor, you see. I had never thought the Empire would take so kindly to a favored holiday of mine.”

“Are you from Faerghus, sir?” Byleth asked curiously. The man’s grin faded, tipping into something solemn.

“Was, until recently. Lived in Myra most of my life before moving to...” He looked away, seeing something beyond the current moment. Edelgard recognized the look well. “No matter about that. It’s wonderful to see all this excitement. Reminds me of better times.”

“Did you not join the festivities?” The Emperor pressed, interest alighting. She watched as he blinked rapidly, as if unused to being engaged in conversation.

“Nay. Didn’t have it in me.” He rubbed his hands, trying to generate heat. The man coughed again and thumped his chest. “It was enough to see people smiling. It’s the spirit of the thing, that makes the Celebration special.”

“I suppose you're right.” Edelgard stared at him for a prolonged period, taking in the tattered hem of his pants. He was thin, and slight of shoulder. The top of his head barely crested her own. Something cold and wet touched her nose, diverting her attention. She looked up into the sky. It had begun to snow, flakes of pale drifting down upon them. An idea blossomed forth, and the Emperor unbuttoned her outer coat.

“You should get to a shelter soon. Spreading cheer is well and good, but catching your death would be unwise.” She offered the garment meaningfully. The man drew back; stunned.

“No, young Miss. The gesture is kind, but I’m not—”

“Take it.” The Emperor pushed the coat into his hands. “As I said, the information you provided was invaluable. And I have far more than I need.”

She took the sprig of Cichol’s Grace from her hair and held up it to the moonlight.

“It’s the spirit of this day, is it not? Or had I misunderstood?”

The man gathered the coat in his arms, touching the fabric reverently. He raised his head and swallowed.

“It is. Very much so. Thank you, Miss.” His voice was near inaudible, filled with awe. Then he bowed clumsily, before retreating into the night. She stared after him, pleased as he donned the coat and disappeared through an alley. Perchance he would soon find the coin-purse she had left. It would be a nice surprise.

“That was kind of you, El,” Byleth commented. The other woman’s brow was raised, appearing impressed. The Emperor smiled up at her, even if she had to suppress a shiver doing so. The coat had the thickest she owned and lined in wool, but it had been worth it.

“I’m merely abiding by holiday tradition. That old thing was too large for me, anyway.” Edelgard leaned into her lover, hoping to steal body heat. Byleth dutifully wrapped her arms around the younger woman.

“As you say." The general chuckled. Then she looked up in thought. "You know, it’s a bit of a shame we didn’t have enough time to see more. But it was still great fun.”

“There’s always next year.”

Byleth brightened, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Promise?”

A wind stirred and tossed her hair, teal shining beneath the winter moon. Lips parted to reveal a broad grin; white as frost, yet bearing the heady warmth of summer. Affection burned in the Emperor’s chest. Suddenly, the cold could not reach her; regardless of how little she wore. Rather than speak, Edelgard leaned up for a kiss. Their fingers entwined, melting the snowfall between them.

_...and most of all, appreciate what you have already been given._

It was a lesson she would not mind keeping, even if the source was circumspect. Saint or not, perhaps Cichol had done something of worth after all.

**Next Part – The Cold as it Was and The Warmth of Now**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - How is everyone on this fine winter day? Doing good I hope? I wanted to post this a little sooner, but the word count got away from me. The original outline was half this length, if you can believe it. This little story was just meant to be a little holiday related romp, but apparently I'm incapable of simple fluff. I make everything needlessly complicated, I swear. Anyway, Ferdibert is now canon for all of TWtD, because...well why not I guess. They cute and gay now peeps. Other pairs are still tbd, but if you have suggestions for the rest of BE I'm fair game. Also, Seteth is now Fodlan Santa. Sort of. I thought it made sense, lol. The Cichol's Grace in question is literally just mistletoe, and the village of Myra is a nod to Saint Nick himself. I cobbled together everything else. I have a bonus chapter coming after this, but it will be significantly shorter in length. If you see any typos or spacing problems give me a shout! 
> 
> I appreciate any and all thoughts. Thank you <3 - AdraCat


	2. The Cold as it Was and the Warmth of Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A private moment is spent in reflection between two lovers. Of winters long gone, and the one presently shared.

  
  


There were a great many things the Adrestian Emperor held contention with.

The Church. Crests. Outdated beliefs and values which held no place in the modern era. The countless nobility who still clung to their titles, and who threw themselves upon her favor to keep them. Even more insidious than that; the silent abuses of the small and common. All of these were detestable. Yet there was one particular injustice which troubled her more than the rest, at present.

She had a cold. A miserable thing of wracking coughs and humiliating sniffles. Edelgard grabbed a tissue from the table at her side. She had huddled herself across from the fireplace, swaddled with thick blankets and sitting in her favorite chair. The warmth should have filled her with comfort, but the nature of illness stole away any fleeting pleasure. She wiped her face, scowling deeply.

Pitiful. To be so beset by a cold of all things...where was the grace in that? An Emperor should not bow to anything, least of all ailments of the body. She had marched through conditions that would fell a hundred lesser rulers, cut a path through flame and sword across the entire continent, suffered through innumerable–

Edelgard sneezed. She sighed, pinching her nose. There really wasn’t any justice in the world. An odd scraping sound elicited by her heels. Brow furrowed, she looked down at the offender. Tiny Professor, irreverent beast that she was, clawed impertinently at her chair. The cat meowed up at her, blue eyes deceptively innocent. It seemed her furry friend wanted to be held. A normal enough request, had the cat not put on significant weight in recent months.

Now, the moniker of _Tiny_ did not quite suit; a fact the Emperor readily blamed her lover for. Byleth often took the little beast to fish by the pier. It had become a common sight to see them jaunting across the palace, fish gripped in hand and within fanged mouth. Normally, Edelgard wouldn’t mind. However, since Tiny Professor hated the cold, her avenues of activity had greatly decreased. And Byleth, thoughtful if sorely oblivious, would have mercy upon the small creature; bringing her catch for the feline to feast upon. It was a precious interaction, but also quite bothersome.

The Emperor stared at the pudgy animal. Whiskers twitched, and small ears folded. Rolling her eyes, she bent down to lift the cat into her lap. Edelgard tapped a finger to Tiny Professor’s nose.

“If you had learned some self-control you could jump up here by yourself.”

The cat stared back at her blankly. A dark tail wrapped itself around her wrist. Smiling, the Emperor trailed a hand down glossy fur. Maybe some concessions could be made. It was hardly Tiny Professor’s fault that a certain general was overly generous.

“As soon as spring arrives, we’re putting you on a diet.” She thumbed the animal’s ears. “You’re the royal standard for house-pets everywhere. A poor showing reflects on the throne, you know.”

If the cat heard her, she didn’t show it. The roguish beast burrowed deep into her lap. A rumbling purr soon came after. Edelgard clicked her tongue before turning her gaze back to the crackling fire. Her quarters were drenched in shadow, lit only by dancing flames. Evening came quickly in these winter months; as if the sun could not bear the harsh cold any more than she. Not for the first, Edelgard bemoaned the turning of the seasons.

It had been mostly tolerable in the mountains, but that was when her days were spent managing the war. There had been little time to consider winter’s little tantrums when surrounded by the pervasive threat of death. The Archbishop’s quarters had also been plenty insulated, something the Imperial Palace lacked due to architectural function. Summers in Enbarr were typically unbearable, and the walls often emanated with the heat of day. An unseasonably harsh winter was not anything to harp about in comparison. Currently, the Emperor wished her ancestor’s had the forethought to account for both.

A tickling sensation in her sinus caused her to sneeze violently. She groaned into another tissue. Would this suffering never end? Give her a thousand dragons to slay, rather than this gross indignity. In the midst of her sniffling, she heard the creak of a door. Edelgard glanced behind her, eyes catching on windswept teal. Byleth closed the door behind her and shook out her sleeves. Snow fell from her arms in pallid flurries.

“It’s snowing again,” The woman mused, kicking off her boots. The obvious nature of the statement didn’t seem to reach her, and she helpfully gestured to the pile of ice at her feet. “We might have a blizzard on our hands. I was getting pelted all the way from the yard.”

“And you didn’t see the need to dust off in the great hall?” Edelgard looked at the mound of snow presently soaked into the rug. Byleth stopped, head tilting.

“Oh. I suppose I could have done that.” Perplexed blue eyes shot to the ground. “I was in a rush so I hadn’t considered it. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. I would hate for the servants to see my carelessness as intentional.”

“It’s just water.” Edelgard smiled, amused more than anything else. The Household staff were used to her lover’s strange antics. In fact, most adored the woman. Tales of General Eisner’s consideration and generosity were commonplace. From the cook’s receiving a surplus of game, to the maid’s gallantly being assisted with hard to reach places. A few muddy boot prints or broken dishes here and there, would not stop them from being smitten.

Just the other day she spotted a particularly moon-eyed servant talking to her lover, giggling in the way infatuated girls often did. Byleth had just listened patiently and nodded when appropriate. Had she not known the woman better, the Emperor would have been dreadfully jealous. Well, more than she already was. Edelgard was perfectly aware of her selfishness. She cleared her throat and beckoned for her lover.

“Leave that for later. I missed you terribly, and I’ll not have a puddle keep me from you.”

Byleth blinked, straightening. Then she wandered closer with a lopsided grin.

“I wasn’t gone for long.” The woman knelt by the fire, tossing a log within its embers. She took the stoker and manipulated the wood. Hazy beams of yellow curled under her jaw and collar. “You seemed eager for me to leave this morning, as I recall.”

“Hardly.” Edelgard denied with a sniff. “I was merely anxious for you to complete your duties. The faster you get done, the sooner you return. Can you fault me for this?”

“Never,” Byleth retorted; quick and without pause. She turned her head and met petulant lavender. With leonine grace, the woman rose to her knees. She leaned her arms along the Emperor’s lap, careful not to disturb their sleeping pet. “I missed you as well. I always do, even when you’re just a room away.”

“Is that right?” Heat suffused the younger woman's skin. “Well then. I suppose I feel the same. Did Hubert harass you for information?”

“Not really.” Byleth plucked coyly at the hem of Edelgard’s gown. “He was worried, of course. It’s not often you send me to attend in your stead, but a simple explanation of your symptoms made the context clear. At any rate, Ferdinand proved quite the distraction for him.”

“Lovely.” The Emperor shifted moodily in her seat. “I shall need an adjustment period getting used to _that_ dynamic. Hopefully, they’ll at least be more productive.

“They proved quite industrious today. Every visiting dignitary was suitably charmed and persuaded to leave.”

“A miracle of grand proportions. I thought the year would end with that self-aggrandizing lot continuing to hound my steps.” Edelgard lifted her brow in surprise. Then she pet the sleeping animal in her lap, thinking. “Perchance this turn of events will work in my favor. I’m still baffled where it came from; but if it helps them to act like the gentleman they are, rather than ill-tempered little boys, I’m ecstatic.”

“I think you’re more delighted than you want to admit.” Byleth chuckled faintly. The Emperor glanced at the other woman.

“That’s quite the presumption, General Eisner. I’m tempted to scold you for it.”

“You can; I wouldn’t mind.” Byleth looked up at her from beneath fluttering lashes. “As long as you keep looking at me the way you do. Any terrible and awful thing you wish to say...I may even thank you.”

“These declarations of yours are becoming more brazen by the day.” Edelgard looked away, hoping the older woman could not see the red staining her cheeks. Sadly, her traitorous heart was racing to the contrary. “Dorothea’s perpetual influence? Or have you merely decided to read through Ingrid’s tawdry novels?”

“A bit of both,” Byleth confirmed with a nod. “They’re quite helpful, especially when I want to impress you.”

“I don’t find cheap, romantic sentiments impressive.”

Sharp blue eyes narrowed, sly and knowing.

“Your flustered reaction disagrees.”

Edelgard pursed her lips tight, unwilling to show just how abashed she felt. Her lover was far too insightful for her own good. Perhaps sensing her embarrassment, Byleth placed a consoling kiss on her head.

“I enjoy doing this for you.” She murmured, breath fanning lightly along pale skin. Her lips brushed by the Emperor’s temple. “Granting every romantic whim. Playing the besotted knight and whispering sweet nothings. Fulfilling each lovelorn daydream you might have had. I want to do all of it.”

“You paint me out to be some simpering damsel.” Edelgard faced her, conscious of their proximity. “Make no mistake; I am not fawning over idealized heroes in a bastardized fairytale. I do not need flowery words or overblown gestures. Several suitors have done the same. All of whom I have sent away without further thought.”

“Yet you don’t deny wanting it.” Cobalt softened; silk rather than steel. “I can see you, El. The way you look in these private moments between us. The words I never had before come easily when I’m around you. Is it wrong to enjoy your reaction? To give you the passionate romance you always wanted?”

Edelgard drew back, the words clicking with a faint memory. She offered her lover a flat glare.

“You really must stop talking to Dorothea. I forbid it.”

Byleth retreated with a rolling chuckle.

“I’m that transparent, am I?”

“Like glass.”

“Hmm.” The woman turned her eye to the sleeping cat. She reached out and scratched a furry head. Her hand paused as the Emperor slid into a coughing fit. “You’re still feeling awful, aren’t you? I thought you looked less peaky when I left, but...”

“Sadly my condition has not improved.” Edelgard wiped her nose in aggravation. “The Goddess perpetually laughs in my face. This cold is just another in a series of petty cruelties.”

“You should rest more.” Byleth frowned, expression marred with worry. “And try not to blame Sothis. She’s doing Her best, I think.”

“...Are you really defending a god?”

“Only when needed.” The general stole a look at the ceiling. Her eyes glazed over in apparent reflection. “You know, She might assist if I ask. The well-being of Fόdlan’s Emperor should be of great concern.”

“Do as you will, I suppose,” Edelgard grumbled, coughing sharply. She rubbed her throat. “I’ll not hold my breath, but some measure of gratitude will be given should it work.”

“A fine compromise, El. Thank you.” Byleth settled by the fire, legs crossed. She looked up at the Emperor, eyes searching for something unknown. “Are you feeling any discomfort? If you want, I could fetch you a bowl of stew. Or maybe you would like me to send for Manuela?”

“This is just a little cold. Nothing dire by any means.” The Emperor bit back a sniffle, chin raising with affected nonchalance. “Troubling yourself over me would be unwise. Aside from that, Manuela has better things to do than flit across the city on my behalf. The Academy will be reopening in the spring, and she has quite a busy schedule on her hands. Hanneman is helping, but you know how those two can be.”

Byleth appeared to think, dark brows pulling together.

“I had forgotten about that,” she admitted. “Perhaps Linhardt, then.”

“Byleth, please put your mind at ease. I’m not an invalid. Nor am I lingering at death’s door.”

“No, but I want you to feel better.” A smile was flashed her way, but it was oddly small; tinged with palpable sadness. “Life can be rather fragile. Fleeting.”

Edelgard stared at her silently. Suddenly, Tiny Professor roused from slumber and pawed at her nightdress. She lifted the burly beast from her lap, letting the animal scurry off to parts unknown. Perhaps to harass the cooks as she tended to do.

“Professor is looking a bit rotund lately, isn’t she?” Byleth watched the cat leave, all trace of melancholy gone. The Emperor rolled her eyes, arms folding.

“And who’s fault is that? She had a perfectly balanced diet before you arrived. Now she ignores the far healthier meals I’ve prepared in favor of whatever fatty fish you slide her way.”

“Better fish than cream.” Her lover imparted with strange gravitas. “Bernadetta scolded me quite terribly after I did that. She insisted I give Tiny Professor my smaller catches as a little treat.”

“I don’t think she meant all the time. And surely not every day.”

“Ah, that may be true.” Byleth bobbed her head distantly, as if the concept had never occurred to her. “But Tiny Professor follows me so faithfully, I just can’t resist. You may need to supervise me, El, so these mistakes don’t repeat.”

“I’m not falling for that,” the Emperor warned. Her lover’s mouth curved into a wry grin. The nearby fire cast deep shadows along her fine features. At that moment, she appeared unnervingly sly; wolfish in a way that was coming to be familiar. Like in the training grounds back at Garreg Mach, or draped in sunlight with the ocean to her back; or, more recently, dancing fervidly amid a wintry gale. Byleth lifted her arm, hand outstretched.

“El, come join me by the fire.”

“And face the humiliation of dribbling all over you? I think not.” Edelgard scoffed, blowing her nose for good measure. “I feel worse than I look, and I undoubtedly appear like a red-nosed terror. Better you stay away, lest I pass my misery to you.”

Byleth was undeterred, jaw set with resolute stubbornness.

“A vivid scenario, but why don’t you let me decide? Should I go over there and sweep you off your feet?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

They looked at each other, wary lilac matching intent cornflower; a garden of shared experiences and desires that never failed to bloom. Byleth’s smile was warm, like the portent of spring. What frail-hearted person could refuse such an earnest plea? The Emperor cast aside those silly poetic thoughts, masking her chagrin.

“Fine. But I’ll not be held responsible should you fall ill. Two miserable people sharing the same room is a recipe for disaster.” Despite her prickly words, she rose from the chair and wobbled eagerly into Byleth’s embrace. The other woman just laughed, airy and far from concerned. Strong arms held her in a secure grip.

“Noted, Your Majesty.” Byleth’s voice drawled pleasantly by her ear. “Forgive your impertinent General for this one insubordination.”

“I may find it within me to grant you this kindness. It depends on how well you behave.” Edelgard relaxed into her lover’s grip, head falling to the side. She let the heat of the fire soak into her skin. Questing fingers wrapped rascally around the tie of her dress. “...And already you break the rules. What in the world am I to do with you?”

“I’m a revolutionary, El. Defiance is in my nature.” She felt Byleth kiss the nape of her neck. “You sowed the seed, it’s only right you reap the benefit.”

“You can rebel all you want _after_ I get better.” Edelgard grabbed the woman’s hands. She forcefully placed them atop her stomach; keeping them still. “Now settle down and play the part of a cushion. It’s a silent role; you need only look at that chair for inspiration.”

“As you please,” Byleth remarked, coltish and dry. They settled into a comfortable quiet; fingers playing together against cotton. The dress she wore was longer than her usual fare, but winter was a season of practicality. It boggled the mind how her love could stand to touch her, battered by sickness as she was. Being wrapped in a drab gown fit for a schoolmarm completed the pitiful look. Scarcely the epitome of seduction. She frowned, antsy and overly conscious of her foul state. Sensing her unease, Byleth pulled back a bit.

“Are you feeling alright, El?” She asked, gentle and curious.

“It’s nothing.” The words came out in a rush, and Edelgard grimaced at the rapid delivery. She was a talented liar most of the time. Yet that skill seemed vanished into nothing where Byleth was concerned. It was an egregious flaw in her mask, but one she did not usually mind having. Eager for a change in subject, the Emperor continued on with a sniffle. “I was just musing on the weather. This has been the most severe winter in decades, at least for Enbarr.”

“Really? I had wondered.” Byleth sighed, breath hot against Edelgard’s neck. “Coastal cities don’t typically see this much snow. Save maybe for those in Faerghus.”

“You’ve seen many then?”

“More than a fair share, I would say. But that time is... muddled now.” The former mercenary slid into deep contemplation. It wasn’t as frequent an occurrence as it had been when discussing the past, but the dark blanket of night brought more than a few shadows. Edelgard squeezed her lover’s hands, hopefully anchoring her to the present.

“When I lived in Faerghus—” she began, sojourning into her own recollections. “Snow was more plentiful than rain. Endless sheets of white, far as the eye could see. I remember thinking how impossible it would be to grow any flowers there.”

“Oh?” Byleth held the Emperor tight, chin resting atop a deceptively thin shoulder. Edelgard turned her gaze to the leaping fire beside them.

“Frost would collect under the eaves, and eventually shatter outside my window. I nearly died of fright the first time it happened. A child’s imagination is a potent thing, and I was convinced a bandit was trying to bash their way inside.”

She smiled at the memory.

“Mother was perplexed when she came by the next morning. I had hidden myself in a snowbank, trying to catch this supposed blackguard. So when she went looking for me, I yelled at the top of my lungs and threw myself at her feet.”

“How did she react?” Byleth asked, sounding both tender and amused.

“As any sane woman would after being accosted by a strange snowy creature. She whacked me on the head.” Edelgard tapped her brow for emphasis. “Upon realizing her mistake, I was swiftly escorted back to my room and given a glass of warm cider. I tried to explain the importance of my task, but Mother wasn’t moved by my plight. You can imagine the embarrassment I felt when she told me the true reason for that atrocious noise.”

“That’s a wonderful memory, El.”

“It’s one of my favorites.” Her smile faded, before falling away completely. “Mother... She didn’t come by often. She tried her best, but Lord Arundel would not let her. He insisted she spend her every waking moment with the King. To foster their relationship, or so he claimed.”

Keen as ever, Byleth latched on immediately to the implication.

“You told me their marriage was political. Yet Arundel attempted to keep your away from both of them. Did King Lambert not know who you were?”

“I’m not sure. If he did, there was never a moment when it became obvious.” Edelgard worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Lambert knew I was of the Arundel line, but the specifics were hidden for good reason. In the wake of the Insurrection, Mother could pursue a proper alliance without the baggage of her former station as Imperial concubine. A child sired by the ineffectual Emperor would not be looked upon kindly within Kingdom lands, let alone by Mother’s prospective husband. Still, how much of that was actually necessary is something I’ve contended with for years.”

She paused, letting the past take her to another time and place.

 _“_ _You look like her. You’ve got the same pretty eyes and all.” The King grinned down at her,_ _maned with long_ _golden_ _hair;_ _like a lion clothed in human skin. But his_ _stare_ _had been kind,_ _lacking in fang or_ _venom_ _. So unlike many of the men she had known. Mother_ _had_ _watch_ _ed_ _them_ _quietly. Her face was bright_ _in that moment_ _, full of something that might have been joy._ _Edelgard never_ _summoned the courage to ask._

“The man was surprisingly accommodating, considering the odd girl who tried to linger at his wife’s side. Though, it’s possible he knew more than he let on. I always thought it strange how often Dimitri was sent to entertain me.” She swallowed at the name, past a sudden knot in her throat. “I met my new brother in the summer and we played without end. Even when the leaves fell and winter stole away the green. I taught him to dance, but he showed me...”

“El,” Byleth called for her, tone lowered in worry. Edelgard shook her head and breathed deep.

“I’m fine. These memories are less painful than they used to be.” She unfolded her kerchief and dabbed her face under the guise of illness. “Anyway, I learned a great many things that winter. Should we ever get stuck in a scrap during a blizzard, I can improvise with snowballs.”

“A handy skill.” While her lover’s words were light, the somber air did not lesson. She felt the woman kiss her shoulder, a touch meant to soothe more than anything. Edelgard struggled to keep her composure. Sick and teary was not an agreeable look.

“Yes, it might be at that. A shame I don’t have the right temperament for winter. It’s my least favorite season, in truth.”

“I guessed as much.” Byleth chuckled. “You were nearly apoplectic when the first snows came. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear so colorfully before.”

“It’s a learned hatred, and an entirely mutual one.” The Emperor huffed. Abruptly, the faint scratch in her throat grew into a heaving cough. She cleared her throat after gathering herself. “As you can see.”

“Is it just the cold? Or is there anything else to it?”

“It’s everything. The snow is fine until you have to walk in it.” Edelgard snuggled deeper into her lover’s hold. “Sure, it may be pretty to look at, but what else is it good for? Death thrives in winter, killing crops and people in the same breath. Starvation is a pervasive concern in small settlements, as the village of Myra can attest to. Nothing grows in ice, not even the hardiest of plants. It’s a wretched experience all around.”

“Hmm.” Byleth hummed softly; thoughtful. Then she started to recite, words lilting and dreamy. “Consider for a time, not the rose in its prime. Think instead of the willow, who weeps freely among ice and snow. Where frost would batter against a lark, not a hint nor score to its bark. In which delicate stem would bend to winter’s breeze, the willow roots could withstand the freeze.”

“Is that poetry?” Edelgard craned her head to face the woman. “Did you come up with that or…?”

“I’m not nearly creative enough, I’m afraid.” Byleth nudged the Emperor’s nose with her own. “I read it in a book several years ago. Actually, it was one of the first things I was taught to read.”

“By your father? He didn’t seem the type for frivolous things like poetry.”

“No...” Byleth drew the word out carefully. Her face pulled into something soft, if abundantly hesitant. “My father didn’t teach me. He wasn’t really in my life back then.”

“I don’t understand.” Edelgard blinked, stunned and puzzled by this disclosure. Byleth, noticing her confusion, immediately elaborated.

“He was a mercenary, and taking care of a swaddling babe was not something he was equipped to handle. So he left me an old friend.” The woman lifted her shoulders in a limp shrug. “I never knew her real name. She always insisted I refer to her as Nan. Not that I parsed what it meant, or why.”

“But you weren’t related?”

“I don’t think so.” Byleth’s mouth twisted into a wistful slant. “I spent my first few years with her, learning to read and write from the books she gave me. Nan could be rather stern, but she was also infinitely patient. I remember that much.”

“Did you...” Edelgard trailed off. They had already discussed Byleth’s previous idiosyncrasies at length in the past, including her unfortunate inability to care for others. Reconsidering the phrasing, she tried again. “Do you think of her fondly?”

“Do I?” Byleth cocked her head, appearing to consider. Then she bobbed her head slowly. “I think that I do. She was the closest thing I can recall to having a mother. Nan was...kind. Good. I wasn’t a great joy to have around, I’m sure, but I recall the days spent in her cabin with affection. She tried to get me to play in the snow every winter, as a normal child might.”

“Is she still around? Perhaps we can go see her if—” The words caught in her throat, frozen by Byleth’s darkening expression.

“She fell ill after my sixth year. During the winter months.” The older woman shook her head, frowning. “Father stopped by soon after that, probably summoned by letter. I went with him, and the rest you already know.”

“That’s...” _Depressing? Terrible?_ The Emperor waffled, uncertain of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Winter brings death, indeed.” Byleth pressed their foreheads together. Silver hair mingled with teal. “But you know, the spring always comes. Sooner or later.”

“Oh.” Edelgard stared at her, somewhat blown by that piece of insight. She leaned close, buoyed by their contact. “I suppose it does. Spring always has been my favorite.”

“I know.” Blue eyes shut as Byleth's lips spread into an easy smile. Hands crept lower, settling around the Emperor’s waist. “I think It’s my favorite too. When it comes around again, shall we walk the garden?”

“The rain needs to visit first, and the gardeners will have quite the task ahead of them cleaning up the grounds.” Edelgard mused, playing with a stray lock of oceanic hair. “But I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“I request Camellias.”

An ashen brow rose, bemused.

“Any particular reason for that?”

Byleth’s eyes opened once more. The dark which had stole over her features vanished, leaving only the warm hue of firelight. Gold and amber frolicked in looping swirls atop clear blue. It reminded her of sunset promises and lighting-kissed glass. And, impossibly, of snow melting away to reveal a bounty of precious flowers.

“I hear they do well in winter.”

Edelgard opened her mouth to pry more when she found herself suddenly tipped onto her back. Sure hands softened the blow, letting her head fall gently to the ground. Byleth, far too audacious for her own good, leaned over for a firm kiss. They both fell into it eagerly, and the Emperor reached up to run her hands within her lover's tangled hair. No thought was paid to illness or the past. Love washed everything else away, and the younger woman drowned gladly. This time, when searching fingers pried at button and lace, she let them do as they will.

Much later, yet still covered in fading ember and intimate dark, Byleth murmured something into sweat-damp hair. Edelgard smiled, lips curling along the woman's neck.

“What was that?” She asked quietly. The Emperor stretched her limbs, boneless and wonderfully exhausted. For the first time that day, she was utterly content and momentarily freed from the dregs of illness.

“I said you are as lovely as a fairy. No matter how terrible you feel.” Byleth traced a hand up her flank. “The city seems to agree.”

“Fairy?” Lavender eyes narrowed to slits. “Is this another bout of romantic nonsense?”

“Not at all. Or at least, not mine.” Fingers danced teasingly down her spine. “It seems people took notice of our dance that night. They’re calling you the fair Lady of Winter, who bewitched a hapless woman into being your paramour.”

“You jest.”

"On the contrary, I'm being quite serious. They're saying the most curious things...not poetry, but perhaps another myth in the making."

At the incredulous ire seen in the smaller woman's gaze, Byleth grinned.

“Moonlight ‘twas her crown, and who weaved her spells with each prancing step. She with purple thorns in her eyes, then stole a soldier for her bride. O’ Fair Lady Winter, who blessed this hallowed night, come and dance again.” She kissed the top of Edelgard’s head. “I didn’t catch the rest, but it does sound rather familiar. I wonder who it could be?”

“I can’t believe this.” The Emperor exhaled in irritation. “Is it possible for the people to see something and _not_ immediately attribute it to the divine or otherworldly? Frankly, it’s ludicrous.”

“I don’t blame them. You are far too beautiful to be human.” Byleth laughed as a stray arm was flung to smack her. The woman entwined their fingers, thumb sliding over a glittering ring. Edelgard just watched her; heart painfully full.

“You’re absurd.” She whispered. “But I love you, every dashing and infuriating bit.”

Her lover stilled, mirth fading into simple adoration.

“You know, there’s one last part to the poem I learned.”

“And how does it go?” Edelgard smiled, playing along. She placed her fingertips along the dip of a clavicle, tracing slowly down where flesh thrummed in steady beats.

“But hardy as is the willow tree, let it be known ‘tis a lonesome way to be. For free to soar is the lark, and with another, it may match any wizened bark. And delicate as the rose in root, more beautiful for the rare pursuit. So as you consider the lonely willow tree, won’t you spend that fleeting time with me?”

 _Fleeting._ Edelgard felt her breath catch. _I see. Then…_

“As much as I have to give.” She kissed the other woman, yearning and deep. “It’s yours. Until my end, and far beyond even that. With every year that should ever pass. This and the next, forever.”

“Then it’s a promise.” Byleth lifted their hands, letting the ring lay between them. She smiled, crooked and perfectly happy. “And we’re good at keeping those, aren’t we?”

Edelgard didn’t answer, but she didn’t really need to. She burrowed herself into her lover’s arms, ready to shut everything else away. Every hardship. Each cutting memory. What were they but ghosts of yesteryear? And as for the troubles yet to come...they could stay where they were. In this wonderful instance, any vague concepts of the future did not exist. Only the cold as it was and the warmth of now. Simple and unchanging was this moment; sublime in every way she never dared hope for.

The Emperor felt Byleth drape the fallen blanket around them both and muttered her gratitude into the quilted cloth. At her back, fire smoldered with lingering waves of heat. Slowly, Edelgard drifted to sleep; a faint declaration of love following her into the realm of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that's a wrap for the winter special! This was great fun to write and I hope you enjoyed this little tale. There were some things I wanted to expand on in my personal headcanons, so I took the opportunity to do so. Such as Byleth's ability to read and write, which I honestly couldn't see Jeralt taking the time to teach her. I also highly doubt he would carry around a baby while he did mercenary work. Or you would hope so, lol. I love touching on Edie's time in Faerghus too, as bittersweet as it is for her. Everything else is just indulgent fluff and romantic shenanigans (my fav)
> 
> I'm a bit of a hack poet, so I hope it didn't come across as utter nonsense. There's some meaning there that I would like for you to latch onto, but nothing pertinent as of yet. Don't worry if you found yourself rolling your eyes at my sappiness. Full disclosure, I did too. Lol, but thank you again for reading! If you are keeping up with TFaT, that story will be updated next so please be on the lookout. Maybe in a week or so?
> 
> Have a Happy New Year everyone <3 - AdraCat


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